A Rose By Any Other Name
by Jayne DLM
Summary: This story examines a type of woman who is frequently vilified and rarely understood. She is more than a single label and to dismiss her as such would be a mistake. A story of heartbreak, cruelty, abuse, and survival. Non-canon story. Not for the faint of heart. Stars Bessy Higgins
1. Prologue

**A Rose By Any Other Name**

 **Prologue  
**

* * *

This is a story about a type of woman who is frequently vilified and rarely understood.

She is a woman of the night, a scarlet letter, a whore, a seductress, a tramp. She is wicked, she is dirty, she is immoral, she is a harlot. She is a home wrecker, a slovenly woman, dissolute, trash and of ill repute.

However there is much more to her than these labels. She is a daughter, a friend, a victim, a lover. She is kind, she is gentle, she is practical and she is honest.

But most of all, she is a survivor.

Her name is Bessy Higgins and this is her story.


	2. Chapter 1 - A Pauper's Funeral

A Rose By Any Other Name

Chapter 1 - A Pauper's Funeral

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Milton was a place of contradiction. It was a busy hub of industry and trade where innovation and prosperity were possible. Yet Milton was also a place where the street rats and the poor where stepped upon with little difference. The Master's prosperity relied upon the poor to work in their factories, yet the very people they depended upon so heavily for this were treated like dirt.

Working oneself into an early grave was more than just an expression and that is exactly what happened to poor Nicolas Higgins.

Bessy Higgins sat motionless at the gravesite of her father. Her tall slim figure was crumpled up in a ball as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible. She had been sitting still for so long that her legs had grown numb, and her hands had turned a faint shade of blue. She shivered deeply down to her bones and wrapped her shabby brown cloak tightly around her body in an attempt to keep warm.

Bessy's sombre attention was momentarily grabbed by a large crow which squawked and flew overhead. She looked past the black bird and up at the sky. It reflected her feelings perfectly: deep grey clouds with a thick halo of smoke around the city. Just like herself, the sky had threatened rain all day, but none had fallen.

Bessy had shed so many tears since her father's death that today, for whatever reason, she had no more tears to shed. Instead she felt hollow yet heavy, as if someone had scooped out her insides and replaced them with tar. Her father was gone and she was truly alone in the world.

Bringing her knees to her chest, Bessy drew her attention to the tiny unmarked gravestone that sat upon the mound of freshly moved dirt. It felt inadequate. In fact everything about the funeral had felt insufficient to properly respect the life of her father and the life that he led.

It had been a typical pauper funeral which was paid for by the Parish. The words by the clergyman were brief and unfeeling, the coffin was made from the cheapest pine, and the placement of the grave was amongst a sea of identical unmarked graves at the back of the graveyard out of sight. He was now just another poor man who had fallen victim to his circumstance. All in all, everything about the day seemed to detract the dignity from the man that lay inside.

Since her father's death, Bessy had also been evicted from her house. Unfortunately her wages from Marlborough Mills were not enough to cover her rent. The only positive thing that had occurred was the Master of Marlborough Mills, Mr Thornton had heard of her misfortune and had put her in contact with the Watson family who were in need of a live in maid.

Begrudgingly Bessy noticed that it was late in the afternoon with the sun descending towards the horizon and decided to make her way back to the Watson residence. Tomorrow was to be her official first day but was expected to assist with the evenings household arrangements.

Bessy slowly stood up from the cold dirty ground, and her joints protested at the movement. She spent one final moment paying her respects to her beloved father before placing a slightly withered red rose on the grave. It was a small token, but it was all she could find.

* * *

Upon arrival at the Watson residence, Bessy was greeted by the upper housemaid, Mrs Fletcher.

"You must be Miss Higgins" Mrs Fletcher observed, looking Bessy up and down with narrow eyes. Mrs Fletcher was a stoney faced older lady who gave off little emotion nor warmth.

"Yes maam" Bessy responded meekly, head bowed.

"Come with me" Mrs Fletcher said bluntly as she turned on her heel and escorted Bessy to the servant's quarters.

Mrs Fletcher led Bessy down a series of narrow dark corridors, down a flight of stairs, and through more corridors. As they walked, they passed several staff who nodded their head respectfully at Mrs Fletcher before scrutinising Bessy as she haphazardly walked past trying to keep up. Bessy just smiled nervously, feeling more and more uncertain of her new position.

After what seemed like forever they finally stopped abruptly in front of a door.

Entering the small room, Bessy immediately noticed the single cupboard, the wardrobe and two single beds. A maids uniform was placed neatly on one of the single beds which Bessy assumed was to be hers.

"Get dressed in your uniform, tidy your hair and report to me. I shall expect you shortly". With that, Mrs Fletcher left Bessy to her own devices.

Finally by herself, Bessy sighed and placed the single suitcase which carried all her worldly possessions on the bed. _At least she would be busy in her new position_ she mused. It would be a welcome distraction from her now miserable existence.

Bessy quickly got dressed in her uniform. She ran her hands through her blonde hair wincing at the knotty texture. She had definitely neglected to brush it properly the days since her father's death. Grabbing her brush from her bag, Bessy made quick work of her long hair, not worrying about gentleness nor care as the brush pulled at the golden knots roughly. Once it was tied back neatly, Bessy made her way to Mrs Fletcher.

Upon entering the kitchen, Mrs Fletcher instructed that she was to shadow another maid, Agatha, and empty the chamber pots from the bedrooms upstairs.

Agatha, stood submissively next to Mrs Fletcher and did not say anything to Bessy. She was small and thin, a similar age to Bessy, with thin brown hair pulled back in a tight harsh bun. Agatha did not speak to Bessy initially. Instead she gestured that Bessy follow before she scurried upstairs adhering to Mrs Fletcher's orders.

The corridors upstairs were well lit and well decorated. The air seemed fresh and the smell was pleasant. It was a stark contrast to the dank and dark corridors downstairs where the air felt heavy and repressive.

They continued to walk in silence which Bessy found strange.

"How long have you worked here?" Bessy questioned, trying to make conversation.

"A year" Agatha replied tightly.

"How do you like it?" Bessy probed further.

"It's fine" Agatha replied before she suddenly stopped and backed herself against the wall, dropping her eyes to the ground.

At first Bessy stood in the middle of the corridor staring at Agatha with no idea what the other maid was doing, but she soon realised. For she was now face to face with whom she could only assume was the Master, Mr Watson.

Bessy initially reacted like a startled dear and stared at him widely. She was struck by his tall rotund figure which seemed so imposing. She was next struck by how uncomfortable she felt under his obvious appraisal.

Realising this was the man who had agreed to provide her with shelter and work, she quickly came to her senses. Bessy followed Agatha's lead, backed herself against the wall, so the Master could pass and bowed her head out of respect.

Mr Watson smugly smiled as he walked at an intentional slowly pace past the two maids, knowing full well his authority and power over the two females.

Bessy breathed a sigh of relief when he turned the corner and was no longer in sight. Little did she know, this was only the beginning of her nightmare.

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Please let me know your thoughts. I am excited to tell a story that won't shy away from some harsh realities.

***** Review Responses  
Dear Guest - Yes Bessy is alive. However you should note that this story is not consistent with the events from North and South. I am merely borrowing the characters to tell a different story.


	3. Chapter 2 - Maid Life

Chapter 2

Bessy had been working in the Watson household for a few weeks now. The hours were long and the work was never ending.

Bessy would rise before the sun, clean and light all the fires, and begin the housework. Her jobs included changing bed linens, dusting, scrubbing the floor, brushing the carpets, beating rugs, filling lamps, serving food, not to mention the additional tasks on specific days such as washing and scouring day. Most nights she did not reach the sanctuary of her small room until close to midnight. Once her head hit the flimsy pillow, she always fell asleep immediately.

Despite the arduous schedule, Bessy did not mind it in the least. Had she not been working so hard, she knew sleep would elude her and she would be left awake for hours on end missing her beloved father.

The one thing that Bessy had not grown accustomed to however was Mr Watson.

His actions were never anything outwardly obvious to anyone else, however they always made her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes he would walk past her and her fellow maid Agatha, and if she didn't know better, she could have sworn that he purposely slowed down his steps as he passed her in the narrow hallway.

When the family were being served a meal and Bessy was called upon to serve the food, she often felt his intent gaze upon her. Whatever it was that she was serving, he would always ask for a second helping. She would try and maintain her composure as she was forced to stand within a close proximity to him, lean down and serve him food. She would internally chastise herself to stop her hand from shaking. After all, Mr Watson had kindly taken her into his household when she had nowhere else to go. She needed this job and he was probably harmless. However the way the hair at the back of her neck would stand up on end in his presence told her otherwise.

Bessy's strategy was to avoid him wherever possible. Yet as the weeks past, there were a few notable instances when she failed. It was always when she was alone and preoccupied with her cleaning duties. A noise from behind would startle her and cause her turn around quickly, only to be met with Mr Watson who was standing behind her a little too close for comfort.

The first time this happened she discounted it as just an awkward accident, nervously smiled, lowered her eyes and politely excused herself making a quick exit. However the second, third and fourth time it occurred, it felt less accidental, and more predatory. The smug look on his red face seemed to grow in proportion to her level of discomfort.

As you can imagine, Bessy became increasingly uncomfortable in the household, and relished the times when she knew that Mr Watson was gone for the day.

However her feelings of dread soon turned to guilt when he off handily gave her the afternoon out of the house. Her only task was to pick up some things for the special dinner that was being held in the house that night. The rest of the time was hers.

Being a naturally good person, Bessy was riddled with guilt thinking that perhaps she had misread the situation with Mr Watson. She gladly took advantage of her time out of the house and went for a walk through the city.

The sun felt glorious, and she would have given anything to be able to enjoy the entire day outdoors in such weather. The hustle and bustle around the streets of Milton was the same as always. Occasionally she would pass a fellow maid from a different household and they would smile at her. They could recognise each other by their uniforms, viewing each other as comrades in arms if you will. Everyone else on the street ignored her presence. This was actually an improvement from the treatment she had received in the past walking down the main street of Milton. If she had previously walked down the main street in her regular shabby clothing, the fine ladies in their perfect frilled dresses would have given her a wide birth and turned their noses up as they passed.

It was while she was walking along the main street that by chance Bessy bumped into her friend Margaret Hale. She had been cautious of Margaret when she had first met her acquaintance months ago. She presumed that Margaret was just another flower who was considered everything beneath her to be dirt. However she was pleasantly surprised when she found Margaret to be refreshingly kind and thoughtful. She definitely held a sheltered view of the world, but she was also brave. Bessy couldn't believe it when she heard that Margaret had openly disparaged Mr Thornton once. She couldn't help but laugh that the one female Mr Thornton appeared to have shown some interest in, was the one woman who didn't find his position in society overly attractive (even if she had conceded to Bessy in strict confidence he was handsome).

Margaret greeted Bessy with a warm hug. Bessy could have cried as she had almost forgotten what a warm hug felt like. With concern, Margaret asked about how she was doing and her first few weeks working for the Watsons. Bessy chose to keep the details around Mr Watson to herself. Instead she said plainly that she was grateful to have work and a roof over her head.

Margaret accompanied Bessy through the market, and the subject of discussion moved to light hearted matters such as Mr Thornton's mother. She apparently thought Margaret was chasing her son and viewed Margaret with contempt. They laughed when Margaret described how she had told Mrs Thornton she had no interest in her beloved son.

It was a hard goodbye when they parted company.

"Promise to meet soon" Margaret said holding both of Bessy's hands.

With a wry smile Bessy replied "As sure as my next day off is, we shall meet soon".

As they parted ways, Bessy still couldn't help but shake her head at how naive her friend was to the life of a maid.

Upon return, Bessy was met with ire from the other servants at having been given the privilege of the afternoon off. Bessy did her best to ignore the sideways glances, whispers and jealous taunts, and focused on polishing the silverware.

They even suggested that she fancied Mr Watson and was working hard to earn his favour. Bessy scoffed at the notion and insisted that nothing could be further from the truth. She had been around enough women to know that they didn't believe her though.

The night of the dinner party had the Watson household staff working to full capacity. The kitchen staff were busily preparing a fine roast, fish, vegetables, and soup. The delicious smell seemed to take over the downstairs section of the house.

All the household staff were directed to wear their best uniforms, and ensure everything about their appearance was neat and tidy. Bessy put on her black dress and white pinafore which was embroidered with lace. Her golden hair was tied back in a simple bun, and her white maids cap was fastened on top.  
the array of food and wine. Bessy was called to serve the guests who sat proudly in their finest suits. Bessy stood passively by the wall during the dinner and did her best to ignore the looks she once again felt she was getting from Mr Watson. What she would give to be invisible to him. Instead she chose to focus on the guests and Mr Thornton in particular. She wanted to see how he behaved amongst the fellow mill owners and would fill Margaret next time they met.

As the night drew on, it was safe to say that the mill owners were indulging heavily in alcohol as the laughter increased, and the conversation became less civilised. Even Mr Thornton seemed to be enjoying himself. Soon they moved the drawing room to enjoy the night further.

Bessy breathed a sigh of relief when she was dismissed by the head maid to go and tend to the fires throughout the house. At least she knew everyone was preoccupied downstairs and she may get some piece. The fire duties took some time, and Bessy was glad when it came time to tend to the last one. It was located in Mr Watson's office and was always the last to be done as he insisted that it be going all day and night.

Bessy was bent over busily stoking the fire and momentarily enjoying the warmth on her face when she heard a noise that made her blood run cold. It was the loud click of the door being locked behind her. She was no longer alone,


	4. Chapter 3 - A pool of tears

Chapter 3

WARNING! This chapter may be triggering (contains rape). Note I have wanted to ensure that rape is not glamorised or trivialized.

* * *

Bessy knew who was in the room without having to turn around as the repulsive smell of alcohol, sweat and cologne surrounded her.

A chill went up her spine and the fair hairs on her arms stood on end. She knew she was in danger.

"Can…Can I help you sir?" Bessy asked hesitantly as she slowly turned around to face him.

Mr Watson snorted in response and started his approach, now shamelessly leering. His face was redder and more splotchy than usual, and judging from the unbalanced manner he was walking and his smell, Bessy assumed he was rather intoxicated.

She instinctually wrapped her arms around her middle and stepped backwards.

"I think you can help me Miss Higgins" he replied hungrily licking his lips.

He took another step forward, and Bessy took a counter step backwards trying to create some distance however her back was immediately greeted by the hard surface of the wall.

Mr Watson laughed at the way Bessy's eyes grew ever wide, realising she was cornered. Trapped. With one hand he loosened his collar as he continued his approach, never taking his eyes off her form.

Bessy felt utterly panicked, and while she willed her legs to move, to run, to do something, anything, she remained stationary against the wall.

Next thing Bessy knew Mr Watson was standing uncomfortably close to her. His breath stunk of alcohol, his forehead was sweaty and he was the red pink colour of a swine.

"What do you want sir" Bessy barely whispered, her skin crawling at his unwanted proximity.

"I think you know sweetheart" he said menacingly as he pinned her body to the wall with his fat frame and started his assault on her small chest with his meaty hands. The strong fingers groped, squeezed and twisted her painfully through her dress.

"Ohhhh…. No sir, let. me. go".

Bessy struggled to get out of his grip, but it was useless. The more Bessy struggled, the tighter he held her, and she felt increasingly weak and out of breath from her efforts.

He now was rubbing his groin up against her, but his hands had somehow invaded the top of her dress. He was now touching her bare flesh. He brought his pink sweaty face to her chest area and lewdly licked her from the collarbone, up the column of her neck and to her cheek. Bessy had never felt more repulsed by anything in her entire life.

Bessy had tears streaming down her face and she let out a pained sob.

"Atta girl" he grunted as he roughly grabbed her and threw her face first onto the desk where she hit her head.

Dazed, with blurry vision and her ears ringing, she only slowly became aware of a hand heavily holding her head to the desk and the vague sound of rustling of fabric.

She gasped as he pried her legs apart, and could feel his sweaty aggressive hands pulling her skirt up at her undergarments and down. His immense weight was pinning her down on the desk, the edge painfully digging into her. Bessy renewed her struggles only to feel pain from his intrusive meaty fingers trying to get inside her.

"A virgin" he murmured against her ear lewdly as his fingers poked and prodded inside of her.

With renewed rigor, Bessy struggled and tried to get away, but he was simply too strong.

Bessy started sobbing and praying aloud, "No, no, no, please god, no," with increased desperation as she lay powerless under him.

She was still disbelieving what was happening, right up until she felt blunt flesh at her entrance.

"Get ready girl" he murmured as he let out a loud grunt and pushed himself right inside her with one thrust, ripping her barrier and tearing her apart. Bessy let out a strangled cry at the unwelcome pain. Her head lay in a pool of salty tears, as he thrust inside of her again and again in a hard desperate rhythm.

Bessy did not know how long it lasted. All she knew was that she had to leave this house.


End file.
